


Come Fly With Me

by unadulteratedstorycollector



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Found Family, Getting Together, HP: EWE, Kid!Fic, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Teacher Harry, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 10:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadulteratedstorycollector/pseuds/unadulteratedstorycollector
Summary: When Andromeda dies there is only one option for Teddy's guardian. No! Sorry! Two. There are only two options... oh. Shit.





	Come Fly With Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carpemermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpemermaid/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to the wonderful Mary. You are amazing. You are wonderful. You are an inspiration. I tried to get some sex in this story, but it just didn't happen... lets imagine that it happens after Draco takes Harry on a real date and they get Hermione and Ron to babysit...
> 
> Thanks to Frnkly for the quick beta! <3

Harry walks into the Ministry, his stomach tight, his head swimming. He’s never had to do this. There’s never been anyone who has… not since he’s been a legal adult. Not since the war.

He fucking hates death.

Standing by the elevator, he tries his hardest not to listen to the whispers around him. Yes, he is Harry Potter. Yes, he is here to talk to a solicitor about Andromeda’s will. Yes, he is looking very grown up now. He’s twenty-fucking-five. He’s allowed to look like a grown up. He scratches at his beard, knowing that it’s probably the reason people think he’s so grown up. It may or may not be one of the reasons he grew it.

A strong smell of something expensive and clean drags him from his wonderings and he turns to look at Draco Malfoy.

“Potter,” Draco says, no malice behind the words. He looks tired, his hair falling into his eyes, a small cut on his chin from where he’s clearly shaved too quickly. He should grow a beard. They’re so much easier.

“Malfoy,” Harry mumbles back. The elevator arrives with a clang, and is empty when it opens. Draco gestures for Harry to enter first and Harry smiles slightly at him. They stand side by side, they arms almost touching, the air around them thick with words that neither of them can say.

“How are you?” Draco asks after a moment, the question soft and sincere on his lips and Harry shrugs, the façade dropping now that it’s just the two of them.

“I don’t know. I mean, I loved Andi. And I am sad. Heartbroken. But… I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t know her that well.” Harry shrugs. He is upset. Andi was a lovely woman — strong and fierce and so much like Tonks. But when he went to her house, it was to see Teddy. It was always to see Teddy. Maybe he should have spent more time getting to know her. Guilt gnaws at his chest and he takes a deep breath. Draco’s hand gently brushes his shoulder and he looks up.

“I know what you mean. I… she was my mother’s sister. I guess I never saw her as anything more than that.” The admission draws harsh lines on Draco’s face and Harry thinks for a moment about leaning into him, wrapping his arms around Draco’s shoulders and holding him close. It’s been a long time since that awful eighth year, Children of War shoved together to try and learn useless things to pass exams, to get jobs in the future. Like any of them were thinking anything more than ‘Thank Fuck I’m Alive’. It was during that year that Harry realised how… different Draco was. And how similar. How much fire and passion and intelligence he had. How willing he was to accept change, how hard he worked to get rid of prejudices he was raised with. Harry learnt he had to do some of that himself.

The elevator arrives at their floor with a thump and Draco removes his hand, the moment over. Together, they leave the elevator and walk towards the solicitor’s office. Draco’s shoes tap against the floor and Harry cringes. Maybe he should have worn proper shoes. Maybe he should have been thinking more about what he was going to wear in front of the solicitor and less about how he was going to explain this all to Teddy. He glances over at Draco, taking in the smart cut of his suit, the way he has one shirt button open, his trousers tight against his thighs. Sighing, he smiles to himself, shaking his head. The thing is, he knows that Draco probably didn’t think for one second about what he was going to wear today. He probably just threw on the first suit his hand touched when it went into his wardrobe and still ended up looking… well. 

Draco knocks on the door as they arrive, and suddenly Harry is very grateful that he is here. Ministry people make him nervous at the best of times. The door opens and an elderly bald man with fantastic eyebrows beckons them in. Draco shoots Harry a look, his eyes a little wide, his mouth a little drawn, and Harry tries not to smile. They’re here to hear a will. Draco slides into one of the chairs opposite the man, and Harry tries to slide into the other one, but ends up tripping and collapsing into it instead. Draco’s lips twitch and he leans a little closer to Harry.

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming,” the man, Mr Ambrose, Harry remembers, says. His voice is oily. Harry instantly doesn’t like him. He points to the will in front of him with a large turquoise quill. “I’ll cut to the chase. Everything that Mrs Tonks owned is going to her grandson, Edward Lupin. Due to the child’s age, it will be held in trust for him until he turns seventeen, when he will inherit everything. Before the age of seventeen he will reside with his guardian, either at their home or at Mrs Tonks’s house—”

“His guardian?” Harry asks. He’d assumed… well, he’d sort of assumed that he would be named in the will. But if he’s not… does that mean? He glances at Draco who looks almost impossibly pale, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Indeed. That is what I needed to talk to you gentlemen about,” Mr Ambrose sighs, putting his quill down solemnly. He should have been an actor, with that theatrical timing. “The guardian is not named in the document. It is my understanding that you, Mr Potter, are the child’s godfather?”

“Yes! I am… doesn’t that make me the guardian?” His voice is too high, his throat tight. They can’t take Teddy from him. They can’t put Teddy into a foster home, take him from everything he knows. He won’t allow it. “You can’t put him into care.” his throat is so tight. His skin is tight. His clothes are tight. He needs to stand, to move. He needs to run.

“They wouldn’t put him into care, Harry,” Draco’s soft voice breaks through Harry’s panic and he turns to look at the other man. “It’s ok.”

“As Mr Malfoy said, the issue is not whether he has too few guardians. It is that he has too many.” Mr Ambrose coughs, looking between them, his eyebrows almost where his hairline should have started. “According to wizarding law, Edward should reside with his closest living relative if a guardian is not named. That would be Mr Malfoy. However, because you are his godfather, there is also argument for him to reside with you, Mr Potter. If the position had been made official, through a familial bond, then it would be clearer. Unfortunately, it was not. Therefore, Edward has too many guardians.”

“Both of us?” Harry asks, his brain not quite catching up.

“Mr Ambrose is suggesting that either we decide which of us is the guardian,” Draco explains, in his best I-Know-You’re-Not-Stupid-Potter-So-Please-Understand-Quicker voice. “Or we can co-parent.”

“Co-parent?” Harry stutters, his head swimming, his pulse tickling at his fingertips. “Like… us. Parenting? Together?” He can’t help looking between the two men. There is no way they’re serious. They can’t be serious. They can’t actually think that Harry and Draco should raise a child together. They aren’t a couple. Sure, they’re friends. And sure, they both like men. But just because a person is a man who likes men and is friends with another man who likes men that doesn’t mean they should raise a child together! They… he… but…

And then the image of Teddy, broken and small, leaning against Draco’s leg as he cried silent tears fills his mind and Harry knows. If it’s what is best for Teddy, he’ll do anything. Even co-parent with Draco Malfoy.

\-----

“Which room do you want?” Harry asks Draco, standing in the hallway of Andromeda’s… no, _their_ house. It took him a week to pack up all his things from Grimmauld Place, putting sheets over things he didn’t want. Maybe he should sell it. But then… that didn’t feel quite right either. He sighs, giving Draco a soft smile. Draco has been looking after Teddy whilst Harry sorted out Grimmauld. Something about not needing to organise the Manor. Come to think of it, Draco’s been organising the Manor since his mum died three years ago. It’s probably pretty organised by now.

“I don’t mind…” Draco mumbles, before his eyes flick over to where Andromeda’s room is, next to Teddy’s. “Not that one.”

“Agreed.” Harry shudders. There is no way he’s sleeping in a dead woman’s bedroom. Not as it is now, anyway, with her bed and her clothes still in it. And… well, it’s Teddy’s house, technically. Harry doesn’t think he should really be touching anything. He points to the spare room on the right, the one he’s slept in occasionally when it was Teddy’s birthday or he was babysitting. Draco nods once, picking up his sole suitcase.

“Good, this is the room I sleep in. Sometimes.” Draco’s eyes shine and Harry tries not to think about how Andromeda had them in their own rooms. He should have spent more time with her. He picks up his duffle, and the rucksack he’s stuffed with all his books and lesson plans for the next term. Assuming he’ll be going back for the next term. McGonagall has told him he can have as much compassionate leave as he needs. He turns to walk into his room when he hears a gentle cough behind him. Turning, he sees Draco shuffling on the spot, looking younger than he has in years. “I could do with a cup of tea… want one?”

“A cup of tea would be great,” Harry sighs. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” Draco nods once again, and walks into his room. Harry watches for a second, before realising what he’s doing and shoving open his bedroom door. It’s a nice room, big and spacious and devoid of anything that could remind him of dead relatives. Shoving his stuff in the corner, he leaves the room, flattening his hair as he goes. Because it’s a mess and flattening it is a habit. Not for any other reasons. None.

Draco is in the kitchen, standing next to the kettle, staring at it. He looks as lost as Harry feels and for a second he’s not sure if he can do this. If they can live in this house together, and raise a child. And then Draco’s back straightens and he gets that determined look on his face. The look that he had when he asked Hermione to teach him everything there was to know about Muggles. The look he had when he’d sat opposite Ron and declared that Ron was the only person alive who could give Draco a decent game of chess. The look he had when he’d held out his hand for Harry and asked to be forgiven. 

“You know, they say it’ll never boil if you do that,” Harry says, stepping further into the kitchen and sitting down at the table. Draco jumps a little before frowning at Harry.

“Do what?” he asks, not angry or accusatory. Just sounding tired. Harry grins at him and shakes his head.

“Nothing. You ok?” It’s a flippant question. Of course Draco isn’t ok. They’ve been asked to give up their lives. And Draco just said yes. Without question. Harry doesn’t know if it was familial duty or because he actually cares about Teddy, but either way, he did it. Draco sighs, turning to Harry and running his long fingers through his hair. It falls back into his eyes immediately and he flicks his head to get it to rest on his cheek.

“Can we do this?” The wonderful thing about Draco is how direct he is. How he doesn’t shy away from a question. Harry bites his lip. Can they do it? The two of them, living together, looking after Teddy? Sure, they’re friends now. Close friends. Very close friends. But can they live together? The kettle finishes boiling and Draco turns back to make the tea. A moment later he puts a mug in front of Harry. The tea is hot and sweet and not too milky, just how Harry likes it.

“You know what,” Harry says, staring into his mug. “I think we can.”

\-----

Harry has lost his favourite hoodie. He knows he brought it with him to Andromeda’s house, but he can’t find it anywhere. It’s been three weeks, and he’s literally looked in every corner of the house. He even roped Teddy in, until he got bored and wandered off to ask Draco if he’d teach him how to fly. But, nope, it isn’t anywhere to be seen. Which is a shame because he’s just about worn it in enough so that it’s warm but not stiff. He sighs, chucking on a different hoodie and heading down stairs. 

Draco is in the kitchen when Harry finds him, padding around in pyjamas, his feet pale and elegant against the tiled floor. And although his feet are oddly alluring, they aren’t what catches Harry’s attention. Draco is wearing his hoodie. His favourite hoodie that he’s been missing for three weeks. His favourite hoodie that is warm but not stiff. And it fits Draco annoyingly well, his shoulders broad and his neck graceful against the deep green of the material. Draco is wearing his jumper.

He also hasn’t noticed that Harry is at the door yet, his eyes on his mug as he walks over to the dining table, papers under his arm. He starts to clear away drawings that Teddy has done, pictures of Teddy with Andromeda, Teddy with Harry, Teddy with Draco. Harry with Draco. Teddy liked that one the best. Harry was a little partial to it himself. Mainly because Teddy has drawn Draco’s head a little bigger than Harry’s and it’s hilarious.

Folding himself into a chair, Draco places one foot on the seat of the chair, tucking a knee under his chin and placing the paper on the table. He flicks through it as he sips his tea. He looks so comfortable, so happy, and Harry can’t help but grin. It’s a rare morning when Teddy isn’t in the house, and clearly Draco is using the time to sit and read his paper in peace. Wearing Harry’s hoodie. It’s sort of funny, how put together Draco can look even when he’s just wearing flannel pyjama bottoms and a hoodie. Like he didn’t have to think before getting dressed. He never has to think before getting dressed. Unlike Harry, who probably should think before getting dressed.

“Nice hoodie,” he says, something twisting in his stomach as he sees Draco look up without jumping. Draco is completely unflappable, so solid and sure in his movements, and Harry envies him for that. He flops into the chair next to Draco’s and leans over to see that he’s reading the business section of the Prophet. Draco once told Harry that he reads it to make sure that none of the businesses associated with his father are returning. Harry suspects that it’s habit by now.

“You’ve worn it in well,” Draco replies, smiling softly. His hair is falling into his eyes, his lips are quirked and a gentle flush is rising in his cheeks. The compliment sits in Harry’s chest, sending shivers through to his fingers and warming his skin. Maybe he doesn’t mind so much if Draco is wearing his jumper.

\-----

It had been a long fucking week. Teddy had been having nightmares all week that he wouldn’t talk about. As if that weren't enough, Harry had had to tell McG that he wasn’t going to make it back for the next term. And, to add a fucking cherry on top, Draco's boss had told him that if he was going to arrive late after dropping Teddy off for his first day of school, he'd have to work late that evening to make up for it. It’s been a fucking shit week.

Which is why Harry has dragged them both to Diagon Alley, taking them for ice cream. Harry buys Teddy a wizarding camera because he had been talking about making his pictures move, and he buys Draco a watch because he’d been looking at it for the past month. They all deserve something good. Teddy had been very happy with his ice cream, and Draco had paled at the watch, muttering something about not needing Harry to buy him things before giving him a small, awkward hug. Harry knows Draco doesn’t need Harry to buy him things. He just wanted to. He can’t really explain why. He just wanted to see Draco in something that Harry had bought him.

They were wandering through the street, vaguely looking in windows, talking about the right age for a boy to get his first owl (“I got mine at eleven and I think that was fine,” “He needs to get it earlier so he can bond with it before going to Hogwarts”) and Harry couldn’t shake the gnawing in his stomach. It should be the perfect day. He’s with his family. His weird, mixed up family. In the sun. But something niggles in him and he feels on edge.

And then Draco takes them into Quality Quidditch Supplies.

“This is it Draco! The new Nimbus Pro Elite!” Teddy’s hand is wrapped around Draco’s wrist and he’s dragging Draco towards the shop front where the broom has pride of place. It is beautiful, the wood shiny and sleek, the broom twigs almost perfectly straight. Harry’s heart picks up. And then images of Neville falling and breaking his arm flash into his mind and he glances over at the Under 10s section of the shop, where the Nimbus Starter sits in the middle of the display. Nice. Simple. With a height restriction of three feet. That seems safer. Teddy is only 8 after all.

“How about we go over here and look and the Nimbus Starter? Maybe we can think about getting you that?” Harry calls to the two of them as they lean over the Nimbus Pro Elite, their heads bent together, Teddy’s hair flashing platinum blond. Something twists in Harry’s stomach, making his neck feel stiff and his fingers itch. “Ted?”

“But I don’t want a _starter_ broom! I’m not a baby!” Teddy whines, giving Harry a look that feels entirely too Malfoy-esque.

“No, but you are under ten. And this broom is for people over ten years old…” Harry points out, looking to Draco for support. Surely he thinks it’s a bad idea for Teddy to be on a real broom. Especially one as powerful as the Nimbus Pro Elite. Ginny flies the Pro Elite. 

“I mean… he is a little too advanced for the Nimbus Starter…” Draco says, his face twisting in guilt. Right. Because Draco has been teaching Teddy how to fly. It doesn’t matter that Harry is a great flyer, one of the best, the youngest seeker in a century. That doesn’t matter. Because he didn’t learn to fly a broom when he was four years old, unlike _someone_. Harry grinds his teeth, glaring at Draco before turning back to Teddy.

“I’m sure he is,” Harry smiles, sure it’s not reaching his eyes. “But that doesn’t change the fact that the Pro Elite is a powerful broom for _over ten year olds_.” Teddy looks dejected, glancing back at the Pro Elite with wide, sad eyes. Harry watches him, his stomach twisted painfully. He feels sick. But he needs to put his foot down. He needs to give Teddy boundaries. All the parenting books say so.

“How about we get you the Pro Elite, and you can only use it if you’re with me?” Draco says, and Teddy’s face lights up. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around Draco’s leg and nuzzling his head into them.

“Thanks Draco! I love you!” Teddy squeals, before excitedly letting go and rushing over to look at Quidditch gear.

“A Nimbus Pro Elite, Draco?” Harry says, his voice thick. He’s angry. Furious. Fuming. Draco can’t just go and buy Teddy a broom without asking Harry if it’s okay first! It’s a broom! It flies in the air with no safety involved at all!

“He’ll be fine, Harry. I promise. And he really is a good flier.” Draco shrugs, watching Teddy across the shop, his face as soft as his voice. “Anyway, the age thing is just a guideline for parents who don’t know what they’re doing. I had a proper broom at his age.”

“Oh, yes, because the way you were treated as a child made you into such a fucking stellar adult,” Harry snaps before he can think. Draco eyes flash dangerously, and he stares at Harry for a second, before stalking across the shop to find an attendant. Harry feels sick, anger and guilt and something else welling in his chest. Maybe raising Teddy with Draco was a bad idea.

\-----

“Hey, Ted, why don’t you head to the kitchen? You can put your broom next to the door…” Harry says the moment they step into their living room. Teddy grins, running off with the long package. It’s too big for him. Too powerful. He won’t be able to handle it. Harry spins on the spot, anger crackling at his fingertips, and stalks towards Draco. “How fucking dare you!” he hisses.

“How dare I do what, Potter? Buy a broom for the child for whom I am a legal guardian?” Draco stands taller, his voice low and warning, and Harry wants to punch him. Or something. Instead he runs his hands through his hair, giving it a sharp tug, letting the pain ground him. How could Draco even think that buying Teddy that broom would be a good idea? And how could he not talk to Harry about it? Not check that Harry was okay with Teddy getting an adult broom? Clearly Harry wasn’t alright with it. And yet Draco had done it anyway. He was putting Teddy’s life in danger. And for what? Some idea that because he’s a pure-blood, because he learnt to fly at a young fucking age, that he knows more about flying that Harry. Harry surges closer, wanting to shake Draco, to force him to move.

“How dare you be so irresponsible with him! How dare you do that without talking to me about it!” The words rip from his throat as he spits them, trying in vain to keep his voice quiet. He doesn’t want Teddy to hear them arguing. No one should hear their guardians arguing.

“Without talking to you? Why would I need to talk to you?” Draco scowls, tilting his head to the side and frowning. He’s the same height as Harry, but suddenly Harry feels small, pathetic in Draco’s eyes and his head explodes with tension and anger.

“Because he’s my fucking son! I make the fucking rules,” he shouts, shoving at Draco’s shoulder. Draco doesn’t move, but his eyes do widen as he looks at something behind Harry. Harry turns around to find Teddy standing there, his chin wobbling. Harry’s whole body goes numb, ringing filling his ears and he moves towards Teddy. “Ted… I… shit… I’m—”

“You’re not my dad!” Teddy shouts, his hands balled into tiny fists, before storming from the room. Harry glances behind him to see Draco shaking, his eyes closed, his skin a weird shade of green, before rushing from the room. He hears Teddy slam his bedroom door just before he reaches it and he leans against it, not wanting to enter if Teddy doesn’t want him to. The wood is cool against his forehead and he feels tears prick at the back of his eyes. He’s so fucking stupid. He doesn’t even know why he said that. Teddy is his… but he isn’t Teddy’s dad. He isn’t. And it’s because of him that Teddy’s dad isn’t here. He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady his heart.

“I am so sorry, Ted. Of course I’m not your dad. I love you so much. We both do, me and Draco. And I know we can’t ever replace your dad… we wouldn’t want to. We just… _I_ just worry so much. I’m sorry, bud,” he mumbles through the door. He’s met with silence, but he can’t hear crying so he nods once. He needs to give Teddy time, space. As hard as it is for him. He sighs, tapping lightly on the door. “Ok, well, I’m sorry. When you’re ready to forgive me I’ll be here. Or… downstairs. Y’know… I’m not leaving you.” He gives one last tap and turns to go down stairs.

Finding the living room horrifically empty, Harry flops onto the sofa and stares up at the ceiling. He’s twenty five. He’s not ready to do this. He closes his eyes, trying to force himself to not think anything. To not feel anything.

Something cold and hard presses against his forehead and he opens his eyes to find Draco holding a beer bottle to his skin, a soft smile on his lips. Draco shrugs. “How about we give ourselves a break on this one?” he says, and Harry huffs a sob, taking the bottle and sitting up. Right, give themselves a break. Like he’s ever been able to do that.

Draco sits on the other end of the sofa, crossing his long legs and taking a long sip from his beer. Harry watches him for a moment, taking in the way Draco’s throat moves as he drinks. He really is an attractive man. An attractive man that Harry is raising a kid with. Fuck, when did his life get this complicated? At least with Voldemort it was simple. Kill him before he killed Harry. This is life…

“I’m sorry… I should have checked that you were comfortable with him getting an adult broom,” Draco mutters after a moment. “I guess I just can’t stand that he’s lost so much. I wanted to give him a little happiness. And flying was something, maybe the only thing, that was good about my childhood.” 

Harry tries to not feel guilty. Maybe he overreacted. He wasn’t that much older than Teddy when he was chasing Quirrel through a series of booby traps. And Draco is a good teacher, and a good flyer. If he thinks Teddy is capable of flying an adult broom, he probably is.

“I’m sorry too. I do trust you, and I trust that you know how to keep Teddy safe…” Harry can’t look Draco in the eyes, but he can feel the other man’s gaze on him, his grey eyes intense. “I just couldn’t bare to lose anyone else.” He’s never said it out loud before. Not even to Ron. Especially not to Ron, when he goes off on dangerous missions for the Aurors.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Draco whispers and Harry nods, their eyes finally meeting, something passing between them that Harry isn’t ready to explore. Not tonight. Tonight he just wants to sit and drink his beer. To give himself a break.

\-----

“Are you ready, Ted?” Draco asks from where he’s sat astride his broom. Harry holds tightly to the handle of his own. It’s going to be ok. He and Draco have been practicing cushioning charms and Harry even got Draco to test it on him, despite Draco’s reservations about dropping Harry from ten foot above the floor. They have done everything that they can. And Teddy really is a very good flyer.

“Yes! Let’s go!” Teddy bounces a little, his broom quivering under him and Harry closes his eyes. He can’t see the take off. He just can’t. A gentle hand on his lower back reminds him to breathe, and he opens his eyes to see Draco smiling at him reassuringly.

“Ok, Ted, but first… what are the rules?” Draco asks, his eyes still on Harry. Harry relaxes, forcing his shoulders to slump, and mouths ‘thank you’ to Draco. Draco nods and turns back to Teddy, his hand still on Harry’s back.

“Stay near you or Harry. Two hands on the broom at all times. If I feel nervous or like I might wobble, tell you. Listen to everything you say.” Teddy rattles off the rules, grinning madly, his hair rippling between blue, black and blond, like he can’t decide what he wants to focus on. Harry loves him so much, loves the way they can tell exactly what he’s thinking just by looking at his hair. He really is the perfect kid.

“Ok, good. Harry, are you okay to go?” Draco checks. Harry nods. He is ready. His body shakes with excitement and nerves. He loves flying. The feel of the air against his face, the freedom in his chest, the energy and magic pulsing through his hands and feet. He’s just happy that Teddy loves it as much as he does. Draco smiles at him, removing his hand from Harry’s back, and holding onto the broom with two hands. Harry relaxes his grip, making sure he has his broom comfortably in his hands. He can fly. He just needs to focus on the flying, on Teddy enjoying himself. Draco coughs and Teddy looks at him, concentration on his face. “Right, we’re going to kick off gently, like we do with the practice broom, except this time, it won’t slow down and stop at three feet, it will carry on. Remember, you tilt the broom gently towards you and it’ll continue to rise. Do not pull too much or it’ll either go too fast or you’ll do a back spin.”

Teddy nods once, and together they push off, rising through the air. The plan is that they circle their small village once, and land safely back in their garden. If they’re happy with that, then they can try flying a little further. Harry concentrates on slowly ascending, glancing occasionally at where Draco is talking to Teddy, one hand on the back of Teddy’s broom to make sure he doesn’t fly off too quickly. Teddy is safe. Draco is keeping him safe.

They plateau about five hundred feet in the air and Harry sits for a moment, his eyes closed, forcing his heart to slow down. He breathes deeply before opening his eyes and looking out across the countryside. It really is beautiful, the lush green fields in rough squares. He’s glad Teddy gets to see this. He turns towards Teddy and Draco. Draco is close to Teddy’s broom, his hand no longer on the back of it. His hair shines in the summer light, his jaw strong and his cheeks flushed from the cold. He looks as beautiful as the scenery, and Harry lets his mind wander, just for a moment.

“Okay, Teddy?” Draco calls and Harry watches as Teddy’s mouth stretches into the biggest smile he has ever seen. He looks elated, his hair firmly mousey brown, a true sign he has lost all control. Draco smiles back and turns to Harry. “Okay, Harry?”

“I’m great!” Harry shouts back, probably louder than he needs to. Draco rolls his eyes but his face is soft. 

“Right. So we’re going to try going forward, just like we do lower down,” Draco turns back to Teddy, his focus on him. “Look at how Harry is holding the broom, can you see his hand placement, you should try for that. Harry's a good flyer. Maybe even as good as me.” He turns and gives Harry a wink before continuing.

Harry sits and watches, enjoying the way Draco is teaching Teddy, the low rumble of his voice, the gentle way he’s directing Teddy. The way he’s making sure Harry is happy. Harry can’t remember the last time someone so obviously altered their behaviour to make sure he was happy. Not that he wants Draco to change. He doesn't. Draco is a wonderful man, and Harry loves him just the way he is.

Harry freezes in mid air. He loves him. He, Harry, loves him, Draco.

Fuck.

\-----

He’s been thinking about it all day. He can’t even remember the majority of the flying lesson, except that Teddy had been brilliant and Draco had been gorgeous and Harry had been freaking out. Not about the flying, which was nice. But about the fact that he’d just realised that he’s totally, completely in love with Draco Malfoy.

Pacing in the living room, he tries to think about what his next move is going to be. Planning is not his forte. His skin prickles and he can’t breathe. Clearly he needs to tell Draco. They can’t carry on living in the house together, raising a child together, when Harry is in love with him. Draco deserves to know. Harry needs to tell him. He needs to say the words and tell him that he is completely in love with him. 

Fuck.

Draco wanders into the room, bottles in hand and flops onto the sofa, placing them both on the coffee table. Harry can’t move. He stares at Draco, at the easy way he moves, at the piercing grey of his eyes, the soft curve of his lips. Fuck, he is so fucking in love. Fuck!

“Hey, Harry… are you listening?” Draco says, snapping Harry from his staring. Harry falls onto the sofa, shaking his head.

“No, sorry… I…” Harry stutters and Draco smiles.

“I said, I got you a beer. You look like you need one.” Draco points at the beers on the table and Harry nods. Right. A beer. That’s good. Alcohol is what he needs to make his mind behave. Draco runs his hand through his hair, a wave of wonderful aftershave washing over Harry and making his heart pound. How did it take him so long to figure out that he’s in love with Draco? Maybe he doesn’t need alcohol.

“Thanks…” he mumbles, and Draco nods, crossing his legs and staring at Harry. His stares are so intense. So wonderfully full of heat and curiosity and Harry just loves it. He loves the way Draco looks at him. The way Draco looks at everything. Harry takes a deep breath, moving closer to Draco without even thinking about it.

“It was a good day, huh? No accidents.” Draco leans on his hand as he looks at Harry. Harry nods. It was a good day. There were no accidents. There was a life changing event that is taking up Harry’s entire mind. Harry shuffles on the spot, trying not to itch at his neck. He has to say something. Now would be a good time. Draco is clearly waiting for him to say something. Because they are having a conversation. And that’s how conversation works. Two people talk. He needs to talk. He needs to say words. He needs to tell Draco. He needs…

“I love you!” He blurts, the words escaping his mouth without any planning or permission. He freezes, his body feeling cold and sweaty and his mouth dry. Fuck. He opens his mouth, attempting to say something else, but apparently he used all his words up with ‘I love you’. “I… uh… fuck…” he stutters, trying to force his brain to think of something. Anything. And then Draco’s hand covers his and he looks up, really looks at Draco.

Draco face his glowing, his eyes shining and his mouth stretched into a wide smile. He looks stunning. And happy. Very, very happy.

“Harry James Potter, I have loved you for longer than is sensible,” he says, and it feels like something opens in Harry. He moves without thinking, pressing his lips against Draco’s, fire running through him, his limbs heavy and his heart pounding. He loves Draco and Draco loves him and, fucking fuck, he’s kissing Draco. And Draco is kissing him back. 

And as Draco kisses him Harry is hit by a sudden thought. Maybe this will work. Maybe they can raise a kid together, live in this house, be a family. Maybe they always were.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read, and loved! Thanks for reading!


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